Dolfin
by Resha04
Summary: He drowned


He drowned.

Woke up in the morning, only to stare into the dim room illuminated through the thick curtain and feel like crying.

He was drowned in thoughts.

His own thoughts.

And the barrier he had built for years inside him crumbled to pieces.

He rolled onto the other side and managed to fall asleep again, but the world wouldn't let him. The knock on the door and his brother's voice woke him up like a harsh slap and he was forced to go answer it.

Even when he had shooed Veneziano away, he was still drowned.

Drowned in his own thoughts.

Drowned in his pain.

-o-

And he wanted to drown in his own tears.

But he couldn't cry, he wouldn't cry.

Because he had vowed to himself. To never cry unless he really, really couldn't hold it in much longer.

Veneziano cried a lot. When he was happy, when he was sad, when things become too hard to handle. When he was depressed, which was rare.

But he wouldn't cry.

Because he had cried a lot in the past.

When Grandpa left, he cried. He cried for days. Not the usual loud and childish cry. Because he was broken-hearted.

When he was still under Spain's custody, he cried a lot. It wasn't the loud and disappointed cry either. He was worried. He felt unworthy.

He cried when Grandpa left, but not when people told him about his death.

He cried when Spain wasn't home, but not when he was.

He had shed too much tears in the past, and when he thought about that in the present, he was embarrassed. He was ashamed of himself for crying.

The past him had been drowned away with his tears.

And for once, he wished for it.

-o-

He was drowned in works.

He had decided that would be the best way. The best way to keep him from thinking.

Because when he was thinking, he himself broke his barrier inside.

But when he worked and filled any minute with anything, he would be drowned in what he was doing.

And it was very much better.

That way even when he was drowned, he could still do something useful.

-o-

He drowned.

And it was painful inside.

His heart hurt so much.

His lungs were on fire.

And his eyes were stung with salty water.

But that was what he wanted.

He wanted to drown.

Because inside the deep dark blue, inside something so beautiful and so powerful, no one would see, no one would know.

Because inside water, even when he shed tears it would go away and be one with the current.

He closed his eyes and let his lungs died, and along with it, him.

But it wasn't long until he opened his eyes again and his lungs were on fire again.

And he let it.

Because physical pain would cover the pain inside.

And he wondered if he repeated the cycle over and over, he would really die.

Died and let the beautiful dark blue dissolve his body away.

He took a step forward into the deeper sand, and he let himself drown.

-o-

But when he opened his eyes again, this time it didn't hurt.

His lungs weren't on fire anymore. Instead it was filled with air, light and smelled of the ocean.

It was no longer the beautiful dark blue around him, but it was someone tanned with the uniform resembled his.

And Spain shook him so hard he was dizzy for a moment. His bigger and warmer hands gripped around his arms, preventing him from fall back into the blue.

"What were you doing?" He screamed, hysterical and angry and scared and _sad_. "What do you think you are doing?"

"I drowned." Because he did.

"Why did you drown yourself?" Spain didn't shake him again, and he was thankful for that. "Answer me, Romano!"

"Because I want to!" Spain was wet all over but warm, and he longed for the cold the ocean behind him offered. "I want to drown! Drown and go for good!"

And he let his tears fall. So much from years of holding them inside. They stung his eyes like blood and they grazed his cheeks like salt water.

"I don't know why I'm like this! I can't do anything good, I even can't in things I like, such as art! And I was really sensitive these past few days and I don't know why! People wouldn't want to be with someone like me!

Shit! I… I have managed to fight this long, until this day. I've managed to convince myself that those were all parts of my role in this world. But…

But… I don't know why I broke down now!"

And Spain pulled him into his arms, he was wet but warm. And his touch spread warmth all over the smaller man. Romano sobbed into his wet shirt.

"I don't know why I'm like this, Spain." He choked out, and he could feel Spain's hand rubbing his back soothingly, warm and alive. The ocean behind him was still cold and beautiful and merciless and half of his body was still inside it. But Spain held him tight and he knew he wouldn't drown. He couldn't.

"I don't know why I become this weak." The salt water still remained in his lungs and in his tongue .

"You are not weak," Spain said, voice warm and sincere. And he had longed for it so long. "You're just depressed. Everyone has this period at least once in their life."

Spain's wet fingers ran through his wet hair, soothed it just like back then. "You are not weak, Romano. Everything's going to be fine."

"How?" He croaked, face was still in the older man's shirt, and still uncertain, still broken.

"I don't know," Spain admitted, bowing his head and burying his face in Romano's hair. He whispered, "But I'll stay with you through this. I promise."

And Romano believed in him.


End file.
